


the way you play for me

by returnsandreturns



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Barebacking, Belts, Daddy Issues, Daddy Kink, Face Slapping, Face-Fucking, Kneeling, Light Bondage, M/M, Praise Kink, Spanking, and the discussion thereof, daddy kink but not ageplay, is probably an important distinction to make
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-03
Updated: 2017-02-24
Packaged: 2018-05-11 08:36:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 12,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5620426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/returnsandreturns/pseuds/returnsandreturns
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I at least need to make a tasteful collage of this,” he says.</p><p>Matt laughs out a “<i>No</i>,” and licks his lips, humming contentedly.</p><p>“You’ll let me treat you like a whore but you won’t let me create commemorative craft projects based on it,” Foggy says, mournfully. “This is a weird thing we’ve got going on. Oh, speaking of weird things. I should probably make you talk about the fact that you just called me daddy before I let you jerk off.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> y'all I have no excuse for this but also I would like to read more about Foggy and Matt getting into a sketchy borderline unhealthy relationship to try to mend shit after Nelson V. Murdock because it's easier to fuck than talk.

Foggy’s not completely surprised to find Matt prostrate in the middle of his living room after he gets home. He’d been moody all day, stressed out and snapping and refusing to talk about it, and he skipped out of work after lunch—probably to go threaten a criminal with his manly fists or something. Foggy and Karen had to have a special secret meeting to discuss what they should do if he keeps this up, namely _have a serious adult talk_ or, more likely, _get blackout drunk and yell at each other._

Apparently Matt has his own ideas, though.

“Is this in regards to you being weird and bitchy all morning?” Foggy asks, and Matt doesn’t reply, just huffs a little and raises his hips up. His clothes are folded neatly on the coffee table, and his chest is pressed to Foggy’s floor, head in the circle of his arms, ass in the air.

They haven’t really talked a lot about this yet, because they just kind of stumbled head-first into fucking aggressively to avoid addressing their dumpster full of issues, so Foggy’s not completely sure what to do here. Sometimes, he just has to try to operate on Matt rules, which are obscure and confusing and kinda dark—like how when Matt says, “I’m okay,” he really means, “I have at least six broken bones.”

Or how when he says, “We don’t have to, I’m just thinking out loud,” he really means, “I want you to slap me across the face until I cry and then fuck me.”

Shit’s gotten weird, lately. Not bad, necessarily, but weird.

“What am I going to do with you?” Foggy asks, dropping his keys on the kitchen table and walking over to run his fingers over Matt’s back. Matt arches for him, and Foggy slides his fingers up to pet Matt’s hair.

Matt makes a quiet, needy noise.

“You’re going to have to tell me what you want, Matt,” Foggy says, “because, clearly, you’ve got some kind of idea in your very pretty head.”

Matt says, low and strained, “I can’t focus. I need—everything’s so loud, sometimes, Foggy.”

Foggy drops down to sit cross-legged in front of Matt, pulling Matt’s head into his lap. Matt moves forward eagerly, slumping down a little and nosing at Foggy’s dick through his slacks. Foggy pulls him back by his hair, and Matt draws in a sharp breath.

“What do you need, Matt?” Foggy asks.

Matt kisses Foggy’s ankle, mouths at the delicate bone, before he says, “I need to _hurt_ , but I don’t want to go out. I know you’re still mad at me even though you say you aren’t and I don’t want to make it worse, but I need—something to focus on, something other than the _noises_.”

Foggy scratches his fingers over Matt’s scalp for a few seconds.

“Get your ass up higher,” he says, tries to keep his voice steady as he digs his nails in just slightly, and Matt shifts away from him to quickly obey, hips raised high and his cheek pressed against the cold floor. Foggy stands up to look at him, walking in a circle around him so Matt blushes furiously, just from Foggy _looking_ at him.

Foggy undoes his tie and grabs Matt’s arms to pull them behind his back, tying them at the elbows so Matt can barely move them. At the sound of Foggy slipping his belt off and vaguely snapping it in the air, Matt hisses out, “ _Yeah_ ,” and writhes like he’s putting on a show.

If this were a different night, if they started this like they normally did—Matt taking Foggy’s laptop away from him and crawling into his lap or Foggy nudging Matt with his foot from the other end of the couch until Matt gets the picture—Foggy would work him up to it. Start with a hand, start slow and easy. Matt’s sprawled out and slutty and begging for it, though, dick curved up towards his stomach and leaking onto the floor, and the first hit with the belt is enough to make Matt _shout_.

After the second hit, he gasps out, “ _Thank you_ ,” and Foggy hits him again instead of replying, making Matt sob and push back to ask for more. He spaces out the hits so Matt can’t anticipate them, so he jumps and gasps and yells.

By the time he’s finished, Matt’s crying and his ass is red, might bruise in a couple of hours, but he’s still patiently spread out. He’d keep taking it if Foggy wanted, but Foggy knows better than to use Matt’s willingness as a measurement of when to stop, because Matt spends his free time back flipping between buildings.

He grabs the tie to pull Matt up by the arms so he’s on his knees, and Matt instantly leans in to press his face against Foggy’s erection, tries to get at the zipper with his teeth. Foggy slaps him across the face, sharply, and Matt pulls away, staring up in his direction with wide grateful eyes.

“Normally I have to ask for that,” he says, and Foggy unzips his pants to pull out his dick and slide it over Matt’s mouth.

“I want you to ask for something else,” he says, pulling away when Matt licks over the head to slap Matt’s cheek with it, hard enough that he has to hiss out his own pained breath.

“Please?” Matt says, makes himself look nice and sweet and imploring, all smile and eyebrows. It’s how he gets girls— _got_ girls, maybe. They haven’t talked about that either.

“I don’t need you to flirt with me,” Foggy says. “Mostly because it would probably work, but I want to hear you beg for it. Do you want it?”

Matt’s cheeks flush red before he looks up and says, “I want it. I want you to—god, Foggy, I want you to fuck my face, please— _Daddy_.”  

Foggy loses his breath for a second and Matt looks stricken, like he’s thinking about high-tailing it out the nearest window and never coming back. He ducks his head, mouth twisting uncomfortably, sniffing a little.

“ _Jesus_ , Matt,” Foggy says. “We—we’re gonna have to talk about that later.”

“’m sorry,” Matt murmurs. “I shouldn’t have. I can go.”

“You’re not going anywhere,” Foggy says. “Not unless you want to. Do you want to?”

Matt keeps looking at the floor, shoulders slumped, but he shakes his head.

“If you want to try that, we can,” Foggy says, measured and careful, “Say it again.”

Matt’s eyes are caught somewhere between scared and adoring when he looks up and whispers, “Daddy.”

Foggy steps forward again to smooth a hand over his hair and rest the head of his dick against Matt’s lips. Matt’s good this time, staying still and patient until Foggy rewards him by pushing in further. He fucks Matt’s face in short, careful thrusts, calls him a good boy just to see tears prick in the corner of his eyes as he opens his mouth wider to take Foggy better.

When he’s close, Foggy pulls out with an obscene wet noise, and Matt gasps for air.

“Do you want me to come on your face?” Foggy asks. “I know you’re kind of ridiculously into that, even if you won’t let me take pictures so I can make a scrapbook like I really want.”

“Yeah,” Matt says. “No to the scrapbook, but, yeah, please.”

Foggy raises his eyebrows, waits with his fingers circling the base of his dick until Matt’s mouth falls open in surprise and he stutters out, eventually, looking embarrassed and strung out, “ _Please_ , Daddy.”

“Good boy,” Foggy says, touching fingers to Matt’s cheek before sliding his dick against his face again, jerking off languidly while Matt raises his face for him with a shaky overwhelmed smile. He groans when he comes across Matt’s cheeks and mouth, says, “Fuck, Matt, look at you.”

Matt sits patiently, and Foggy slides a finger through his come to press it into Matt’s mouth, smiling down at him when he licks around it.

“I at least need to make a tasteful collage of this,” he says.

Matt laughs out a “ _No_ ,” and licks his lips, humming contentedly.

“You’ll let me treat you like a whore but you won’t let me create commemorative craft projects based on it,” Foggy says, mournfully. “This is a weird thing we’ve got going on. _Oh_ , speaking of weird things. I should probably make you talk about the fact that you just called me daddy before I let you jerk off.”

Matt full-on pouts at this, does the Disney princess eyes and Foggy almost gives in, partially just because he wants to see Matt jerk off. When Foggy just stands there, petting Matt’s hair, Matt eventually says, “I’ve just been thinking about it. We don’t have to do it again.”

“Do you want to do it again?” Foggy asks.

Matt’s face goes through a range of emotions before he finally murmurs, “I know it’s fucked up.”

“So are a lot of things,” Foggy says. He almost adds _like lying to your best friend for years_ and _listening to people’s heartbeats_ but Matt clearly knows that he’s not over it. No need to poke that particular wound, not when there are probably half a dozen literal wounds on Matt’s body at this very moment.

“I liked when you called me good, when you—when you call me nice things,” Matt says, quietly, a little roughly. “And I—liked calling you that.”

“We can’t do it if you won’t say it,” Foggy says, and Matt’s face slips from uncomfortable to kind of slack, soft.

“ _Daddy_ ,” he says, again, wonderingly.

“Good,” Foggy murmurs. “That’s good. We’ll talk about it more later. You want to jerk off for me, honey?”

Matt smiles, small and sweet.

“Please,” he says.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't really have any legit plans for this, I just wanted to write this prequel and then maybe some more random angry confused porn in the same general 'verse. I want to explore the daddy kink thing, too, but I'm not sure how yet.

It starts like this: Foggy finds Matt bleeding on the floor and learns that everything he knew about his best friend was a lie. Okay, maybe that’s dramatic— _whatever_. So is putting on a goddamn mask and fighting _crime_.

Matt tries to talk to Foggy and Foggy makes jokes and brushes it off. Foggy tries to talk to Matt and Matt makes excuses to leave. Karen glares at them.

Everything explodes at 5:30 on a Friday afternoon. Karen leaves in a huff, and Matt’s got a black eye and Foggy says something bitchy about it. Ten minutes later, he doesn’t remember what he says, because Matt tells Foggy to get over it and shoves him into his desk chair and drops down to kneel in front of him.

They haven’t fucked since college—an occasional event fueled by booze and finals week stress—but Foggy remembers this, the feel of Matt’s mouth around him, his fingers in Matt’s hair because Matt always wanted to _choke_ on it.

“You can’t just suck my dick to get out of a fight,” Foggy says. “It’s an unfair advantage— _Matt_.”

Matt does this thing with his tongue that makes Foggy want to kiss him on the mouth, then pulls off to say, “I don’t want to fight.”

“The shiner you’re sporting says otherwise,” Foggy says, sharply, and Matt rolls his eyes and drops his head back down. Foggy tightens his hold on Matt’s hair, pulls him down further, and Matt moans and moans around Foggy’s dick as it hits the back of his throat.  

Foggy wants to push it further but holds himself back, because he probably shouldn’t try something like that when he’s really and truly _pissed_ —instead, he guides Matt’s head in short, fast thrusts by tugging on his hair at the roots.

“God, I forgot how much you like this,” he says, and Matt nods as much as he can with his mouth full, slides his tongue around Foggy’s dick just to prove it. It’s enough to make Foggy gasp and pull Matt away, sliding the spit-slick length of his dick over Matt’s cheek before he jerks himself off onto Matt’s lips. Matt looks fucked up and pleased, still wearing a full suit, his hair standing on end.

Matt licks his lips and says, “You remembered," which, yeah. He remembers Matt with come on his face, in the dorm, in their first shitty apartment.

“That you’re kind of a slut?” Foggy asks, means it as a joke but Matt blushes and smirks, wipes his mouth off with the back of his hand before he crawls into Foggy’s lap and kisses him. Foggy bites at Matt’s mouth while he unbuttons his pants and slides fingers under the waistband of Matt’s briefs to jerk him off.

Matt makes grateful noises against Foggy’s tongue in his mouth when he comes, in his underwear—if he weren’t still mad, Foggy’d probably offer to do Matt’s laundry. Instead, he wipes his hand on the front of Matt’s shirt before leaning in to kiss him one more time.

“That was fun,” he says. “It’s not going to work to distract me next time, though.”

It works next time, and the next time, and suddenly, Matt’s kneeling on his apartment floor and begging to get fucked when they aren’t even fighting and maybe this is—dating? It’s definitely something. They don't go out for dinner dates, but Matt's definitely in his bed a lot.

And on his couch.

And, once or twice, the kitchen island.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Have you done this with other people?” Foggy asks, after Matt's blissed out and half-asleep, slumped against Foggy on his couch—after Foggy makes him jerk off and then lick his own come from his hand. It was pretty special. He’s wearing a pair of Foggy’s sweatpants and no shirt, so Foggy can see the scars arching over his ribs and shoulders.
> 
> “Sex?” Matt asks. “Once or twice.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> idk IDK this is probably going to be a bunch of tiny chapters ~*~*~
> 
> this starts up after chapter one

“Have you done this with other people?” Foggy asks, after Matt's blissed out and half-asleep, slumped against Foggy on his couch—after Foggy makes him jerk off and then lick his own come from his hand. It was pretty special. He’s wearing a pair of Foggy’s sweatpants and no shirt, so Foggy can see the scars arching over his ribs and shoulders.

“Sex?” Matt asks. “Once or twice.”

“Matt,” Foggy says.

Matt's silent for a while before he turns his forehead to rest it against Foggy's shoulder, shutting his eyes when he says, “Not like this.”

Foggy breathes in and out before he murmurs, “Don’t listen to my fucking heart right now,” and Matt laughs softly.

“Can’t help it,” he says, like he’s telling the truth for once. “It’s all I can hear.”

*

Matt wakes up before Foggy, so Foggy wakes up to Matt’s hand slipping under his waistband. He moans at the touch of Matt’s fingers on his dick then says, voice groggy, “Are you still trying to fuck me to keep from having to talk about stuff?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Matt says, primly, and Foggy huffs and rolls over so he’s on top of Matt. He takes Matt’s wrists and pins them to the bed after a brief struggle, and Matt frowns up at him.

“Yeah, with the face,” Foggy murmurs.

“You know I’m stronger than you, right?” Matt asks, flexing his arms a little, and Foggy snorts.

“Yes, I’m aware,” he says, dryly. “You’re a big strong man with a lot of anger issues who wants to get spanked and called a good little boy.”

“Not _little_ ,” Matt says.

“Okay, now we’re getting somewhere,” Foggy says. “So, I’m not going to have to change any diapers?”

“ _No_ ,” Matt laughs, pulling a face. “I just—it’s a power thing, I guess. I want you to be—you know.”

“Daddy,” Foggy replies, can’t help the way his voice dips lower, still gravely with sleep.

“Yeah,” Matt breathes out, raising his face up hopefully, and Foggy leans down to press a soft kiss to his mouth.

“This seems like an incredibly indirect way to say you need someone to take care of you,” he says, nudging their foreheads together.

“More like an incredibly direct way to say I want you to fuck me,” Matt replies. “Now, preferably.”

“Mmm, can’t,” Foggy says, kissing Matt’s cheek wetly before he pushes off of him, standing up. “We’ll be late.”

“We have two _hours_ ,” Matt says, sitting up to glare at him.

“You know how long it takes to get my hair so luscious and soft, Murdock?” he shoots back. “You’ll just have to be patient for me.”

“ _Patient_ ,” Matt huffs out.

“Be a good boy,” Foggy says, and Matt collapses back on the bed, turning away from him. “Don’t fall back asleep, Karen’ll sulk if we miss an appointment and she has to pretend to be a lawyer again.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You know you just have to ask if you want something, sweetheart,” Foggy says, and Matt almost beams at that, dropping his face to hide it against Foggy’s knees.
> 
> His cheeks are flushed red when he looks up again, murmurs, “Daddy,” in a rough, scratchy voice that goes right to Foggy’s dick.

 

Matt still goes out, but he usually doesn’t come back to Foggy’s apartment afterwards—on purpose, Foggy thinks, even though he never says it. That is, until one night when he wakes up at two AM on a Saturday to Matt climbing through his bedroom window.

“Thought I locked that,” he says, sitting up on his elbows.

“I unlocked it,” Matt says. “Sorry.”

“Well, I live on the fifth floor,” Foggy says, around a yawn. “What’s gonna happen. I mean, besides vigilantes in dumb costumes breaking and entering—vigilantes who are bleeding from their faces. _Great_.”

“’m fine,” Matt mumbles, pulling off his mask, his hair messy and sweat stiff. There’s an actual gash along his jawline, dripping blood down his neck, but, sure, he’s fine. Foggy watches him strip out of the suit until he’s just wearing a pair of tight briefs, body luckily free from any other noticeable wounds as he walks out of the room

Foggy’s sitting up in bed when Matt walks back in, his face clean and carefully bandaged. He pauses in the doorway, stands quietly like he’s asking for permission, and Foggy sighs and say, “C’mere.”

He reaches out to brush his fingers over Matt’s shoulder when he crawls onto the bed, and Matt follows the touch, sliding under the sheets to curl up next to Foggy with his head on his chest. His whole body is still too warm, damp with sweat when Foggy wraps his arms around him.

“Why are you here, Matt?” he asks, eventually, and Matt lets out a long breath against Foggy’s collarbone.

“Had a bad night,” he replies, softly. “Didn’t want to be alone.”

Foggy’s heart probably does some sentimental bullshit at that, but Matt gracefully doesn’t say anything about it, just moves agreeably when Foggy shifts to pull him closer. He wants to ask Matt what he would have told him a month ago to excuse away the cut on his cheek, but it feels too mean when he rolls it over in his head, so he swallows it down and holds on.

*

Foggy wakes up to an empty bed and the smell of coffee.

“Did you even sleep?” he asks, as he wanders out into the living room, where Matt’s kneeling on the floor by the couch.

“Couple of hours,” Matt says, calmly.

Foggy pours a cup and moves so sit on the couch behind Matt, taking a sip before he passes the mug down. Matt hesitates for a second before he takes a drink and hands it back, smiling vaguely up at Foggy. Foggy wants to ask him what happened last night, but he also doesn’t think he actually wants to know, so he doesn’t.

Instead, he slides fingers through Matt’s hair, scratches at his scalp so Matt hums and pushes up into it.

“Is it okay that I came here last night?” Matt asks.

Foggy takes a long drink before he replies, knows that Matt just wants a _yes_ and a kiss but can’t give it to him, “I don’t like seeing you hurt—I don’t _like_ what you’re doing, but, honestly, I’d still rather you bleed where I can see you and do something about it.”

“Sorry you have to do something about it,” Matt says, a little bitter, maybe, but he turns enough to press his face against Foggy’s thigh.

“Maybe I’ll get used to it,” Foggy says, because they both know that Matt’s never going to stop.

*

Matt stays at his feet for the rest of the morning, shifts positions until he’s comfortable, back against Foggy’s legs. He keeps his eyes shut, maybe meditating, while Foggy watches shitty TV reruns and pets his head aimlessly.

Eventually, Matt shifts around until he’s kneeling and facing Foggy, pressing a kiss to his knee before he sits back on his feet and looks up at Foggy with big earnest eyes. _Fuck_ those eyes, honestly. Matt doesn’t need any more superpowers.

“You know you just have to ask if you want something, sweetheart,” Foggy says, and Matt almost beams at that, dropping his face to hide it against Foggy’s knees.

His cheeks are flushed red when he looks up again, says, “Daddy,” in a rough, scratchy voice that goes right to Foggy’s dick. He reaches out to squeeze Matt’s shoulder and tug, and Matt climbs up into his lap.

Foggy kisses him, keeps Matt’s head where he wants it with a hand on his uninjured jaw—in what’s probably a stroke of genius, slides his other hand over the bandages so Matt hisses and swears and kisses him harder.

At least if Matt’s going to go out and get himself fucked up, Foggy can use it for something.

"What do you want, Matt?" Foggy asks, digging his fingers in a little to pull Matt's face away.

Matt looks pained for a second, hates talking about what he wants even when he's already panting for it, before he says, "Will you fuck me?"

"Maybe," Foggy says, speculatively, dropping a hand to slip three fingers under the waistband of Matt's underwear.

Matt's smile is dark and pretty when he kisses Foggy again and murmurs, "Daddy. Please?" into his mouth. Foggy slaps Matt's hip once, sharp and quick, and Matt yelps and laughs in one breath. 

"Go sit on the bed," Foggy says. "I'll be there in a second."


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> maybe this fic will have substance someday but today is not that day
> 
> please join me in the garbage and write more daddy kink fic, there is a LACK and we can fix it together

Foggy quietly goes about cleaning the living room up, straightening the coffee table and adjusting throw pillows and shit that he’d never do otherwise, seeing if Matt’ll wait for him and thinking about how, in the morning light through his curtainless windows, he could see a new map of bruises charted across Matt’s back and ribs. There’s pretty much no position where he’s not going to hurt himself, not like Matt wants to get fucked, and Foggy’s pretty sure that Matt doesn’t _care_ if he hurts himself— _wants_ it, probably, maybe wanted these bruises that somebody else kicked into him.

Foggy mentally adds, _hey, do you get off on the Daredevil shenanigans_ to the list of conversations that he’s probably going to have to fuck out of Matt, somewhere after: _daddy issues—what’s up with that?_

Right now, though, he steps into the doorway lightly to see Matt sitting cross-legged on his bed—naked and half-hard, hair still a mess from Foggy’s fingers, smile going lop-sided in Foggy’s direction.

“You’re more patient than you used to be,” Foggy says, leaning against the doorframe.

“I’ve always been patient,” Matt says, smiling a little wider because he knows he’s a damn _liar_.

“You wouldn’t let me leave for class until I got you off once,” Foggy says.

“I was nineteen,” Matt says, “and I blew _you_ first.”

“You blocked the door until I put my hand down your pants,” Foggy shoots back, and Matt laughs.

“You know, I could _hear_ you in there wondering if you could get away with cleaning the windows or something,” Matt says. “You’re testing me.”

“And you passed,” Foggy says, dryly. “You’re a very good boy, Matt.”

Matt’s cheeks go pink just from that, and Foggy moves forward to climb onto the bed and kneel in front of him so he can crowd up in Matt’s space, hover over him until Matt raises his face for a kiss.

Foggy sweeps a thumb over his cheekbone, says, “Get on your hands and knees for me, honey.”

Matt pushes up into another kiss before he moves to sprawl out on his elbows, raising his hips up. The bruises across his back are mottled and purple, and Foggy reaches out to press his fingers into them, gently. Matt lets out a startled, broken moan.

“These look bad,” Foggy says, smoothing his hand over them, feeling Matt shudder.

“I’ve had worse,” Matt says.

“Yeah,” Foggy says, flatly. Sometimes he still dreams about Matt’s blood on his hands. “I know.”

Matt goes quiet, dropping his head, and Foggy’s hand slips down to grip Matt’s ass.

He opens Matt up slowly, fucks him with his fingers and too much lube until Matt’s begging, until he’s doing nothing but making noises that vaguely sound like _please_ and squirming with his face buried in the mattress.

“Are you ready?” Foggy asks, sliding his fingers out and wiping them off on the sheets.

“What do you think?” Matt gasps out, and Foggy bites back a laugh.

“I see you found your words again just to be a little shit,” he says, warmly, tracing fingers over Matt’s hole where it’s still open and wet just to pull back and spank him. Matt cries out, something wordless and fucked that makes Foggy groan just hearing it.

“I’m ready,” Matt corrects himself, hoarsely, slowly raising his hips back up from where he’d curled in on himself—like an apology, an offering.

“There we go,” Foggy says, gently, reaching to run his fingers through Matt’s hair and leave them there as he takes him by the hip with his other hand and slowly pushes inside of him. He strokes Matt’s hair until his hips are nudging up against Matt’s ass. When he pulls out and thrusts back in, he says quietly, “God, you’re taking me so well, baby, you’re such a good boy for me.”

Matt makes a choked noise, like he’s holding back a sob, and Foggy stops moving, half inside of him when he asks, “Matt?”

“No, I’m fine, I’m okay,” Matt says, and his voice is shattered and low. “ _Please_ don’t stop, Daddy.”

Foggy pulls out and, before Matt can do more than make a noise in protest, flips him over so Matt’s sprawled out on his back and looking surprised. His dick is hard and curved towards his stomach, and his eyes are wet and red and wide.

He leans down to kiss Matt’s forehead, murmuring, “My sweet boy,” as he thrusts inside of Matt again, digging his fingers into Matt’s thighs to force them open more. Matt looks wrecked underneath him, sobbing again when Foggy reaches between them to slide his fingers around the base of his dick.

Matt comes first, after just a few strokes, and Foggy pushes up as close as he can to him—covering Matt’s body with his own, buried inside of him. He presses kisses and praise to Matt’s mouth as he fucks him hard, words he’s been collecting that make Matt look at him like he’s actually in love, _good_ and _sweet_ and _beautiful_.

When Foggy comes, hips jerking forward, he says, “Matt, say it,” with his lips against Matt’s cheek.

Matt says, hushed and reverent, “ _Daddy_.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “So, Matt’s happy,” Karen says, one morning, dropping down into the chair in front of Foggy’s desk. She sits a mug of coffee down for him. 
> 
> “Oh?” Foggy asks.
> 
> “You haven’t noticed?” she asks. “He’s been smiling. He hasn’t done that in awhile.”
> 
> “Must be getting laid,” Foggy says, casually, taking a drink. He feels very warm all of a sudden.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just a few happy scenes before they try to talk about their feelings and everything goes to hell (at least briefly)

“So, Matt’s happy,” Karen says, one morning, dropping down into the chair in front of Foggy’s desk. She sits a mug of coffee down for him.  

“Oh?” Foggy asks.

“You haven’t noticed?” she asks. “He’s been _smiling_. He hasn’t done that in awhile.”

“Must be getting laid,” Foggy says, casually, taking a drink. He feels very warm all of a sudden.

“Do you think so?” Karen asks. “Do you have gossip? He’s been so _weird_ , lately, Foggy.”

“Nope, no gossip,” Foggy says, lightly, smiling at her. “Matt’s an enigma. Let’s just be happy he’s not making sad faces anymore, yeah?”

“. . .I’m going to go talk to him,” she says, pushing herself up and headed for the door, grinning quick and flashy. “I want _details_.”

Foggy starts to say something than changes his mind. Matt can handle this one. It’s his fault for walking around looking all well-fucked all the time.

*

“So, Karen asked me if I had a special lady in my life earlier,” Matt says, when Karen’s gone out for lunch. He leans against Foggy’s desk, and Foggy smirks up at him.

“Oh, yeah? Anything you want to tell me?” he asks.

“She said I looked happy,” Matt says, smile barely touching the corners of his lips, like he’s trying to keep a straight face.

“I told her you were probably getting laid,” Foggy says. “She extrapolated from there.”

Matt moves to sit down on the edge of Foggy’s desk in front of him, kicking out a little so his shoe brushes up against Foggy’s ankle, the slightest touch. He slips off his glasses and tucks them into the pocket of his suit, eyes searching until they settle close to Foggy’s face. He doesn’t say anything, but it’s just this _look_ , quick and hesitant and _hopeful_.

“You want to be on your knees, sweetheart?” he asks, careful and low, and Matt sucks in a sharp breath before he nods. Foggy moves his chair backwards and Matt sinks down instantly, ducking his head when Foggy leans down to press a kiss to his hair.

“Are you?” he asks, after a long silence, Matt’s face resting against Foggy’s knees. Matt looks up, making a soft questioning noise, and Foggy elaborates: “Happy?”

Matt’s slow, lazy smile makes him flush.

“Yeah,” he says, and Foggy moves to touch fingers under his chin, so Matt lifts his head and shuts his eyes expectantly. Foggy kisses him softly on the mouth, once.

“Me, too,” he says. Things aren’t great, yet. Matt’s still getting the shit beaten out of him regularly, and he could die just--literally _any time_ and Foggy can’t do anything about it and can’t stop him. Matt _won’t_ stop, and Foggy sometimes looks at him after a bad night, stretched out and covered in scratches and bruises, and doesn’t know what to _do_. He still doesn’t even know if they’re dating or just _really_ friendly friends.

Foggy can’t use the word okay, they’re _not_ okay, but he’s not lying when he says he’s happy and Matt knows it. Matt can hear his heart, taste perspiration in the air or some shit and he smiles wider and rubs his cheek against the line of Foggy’s leg, wordlessly pleased.

Matt gets up to go back to his office when he hears Karen downstairs, smoothing his pants down and shooting Foggy a soft look over his shoulder. They all eat lunch together, and Foggy gets hard thinking about Matt on his knees beside Foggy's chair, about hand feeding him pieces of food.

He’s in _deep_.  


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, everything goes to hell for like five seconds because I don't like conflict ~*~

Matt comes back to Foggy’s apartment almost every night now, crawling in the window and patching himself up before he comes to bed. He’s got the ninja stealth thing down to the point where Foggy doesn’t always hear him, like this weekend, when he sleeps through the night and wakes up after the sun’s up with Matt nosing against his cheek.

“Morning,” he mumbles around a yawn, turning to catch Matt’s mouth in a kiss. “What time did you show up?”

“A few hours ago,” Matt says, moving in to kiss Foggy again, licking into his mouth.

Foggy kisses back enthusiastically before he pushes Matt down with a hand on his shoulder, pinning him to the bed, saying, “Geez, you’re eager.”

“Missed you,” Matt says.

“Buddy, we see each other _literally_ all the time,” Foggy says, loosening his grip on Matt, who leans up to brush their noses together.

“ _Missed_ you,” Matt repeats, significantly, voice dropping low, and— _oh_. Right. It’s been almost two weeks since they’ve done anything together, too busy between work and Matt’s night job to do anything in their free time besides sleep.

Foggy cards his fingers through Matt’s hair, says, quietly, “I missed you, too, honey.”

Matt smiles and says, “Daddy,” without blushing or hiding his face.

Foggy kisses him one more time before he slides off the bed, taking Matt’s hand to pull him along so Matt follows him into the bathroom, their shoulders touching as they brush their teeth. Foggy watches him in the mirror—dark hair still stiff with blood at his temple, looking loose and sleepy and sweet even when Foggy reaches to brush his fingers over the scraped skin.

“You should get in the shower,” he says. “Clean this up.”

“Want to help me?” Matt asks, nudging him with his hip. Foggy huffs out a quiet laugh.

“Yeah, I’ll help you,” he says. “Let’s get your clothes off.”

He helps Matt undress, running his fingers over Matt’s side so he shivers and laughs, before he pulls off his own clothes and starts the shower while Matt drapes himself, boneless, against Foggy’s back and kisses his neck.

“So, _you_ get _significantly_ sluttier when you’ve gone without for too long,” Foggy says, pulling Matt into the shower and positioning them so they’re both under the water.

“Uh huh,” Matt says, smirking.

“Let’s explore that,” Foggy laughs.

*

Later, they’re on the couch and Matt’s laying with his head in Foggy’s lap when Foggy says, hoping to bypass Matt’s radars now that he’s calm and quiet, “Can we talk about some stuff?”

Matt shifts, glancing towards Foggy’s face before he turns away again, facing the opposite wall.

“Like what?” he asks.

“All of this,” Foggy says. “The daddy stuff. I think maybe we need to figure some things out.”

“Do we?” Matt asks, sitting up. He glances around the room like he’s thinking of an exit strategy, and Foggy rolls his eyes.

“Hey, don’t go throwing yourself out any windows. I’ll sit on you so you can’t leave,” Foggy says, grabbing Matt’s hand. Matt sits back easily.

“I’m stronger than I was in college,” he says, lips twitching up. “It wouldn’t work.”

“Matt,” Foggy says. “Can we do this?”

Matt makes a face at him, maybe kind of nervous.

“It’s just sex, it’s not—” Matt starts, sighing before he adds, “There’s nothing to figure out about it.”

“Just sex,” Foggy repeats, dully. He’s pretty sure he feels his entire body shut down, stomach sinking. Matt turns his face towards him, frowning.

“. . .Foggy, no, that’s not what I meant,” he says.

“No, it’s okay,” Foggy says, his laugh sounding foreign and hard, getting to his feet before Matt can touch him. “I figured the other shoe would drop eventually. We’re friends, right? We can fuck and it doesn’t have to mean anything.”

“It _means_ something _,_ ” Matt says, desperately. “We just never talked about it—”

“Because you won’t _talk to me_ , Matt,” Foggy says. “Any time I try, you run off or—or put my dick in your mouth. God, I don’t even know what we’re _doing_.”

Foggy thinks about leaving, taking a walk, takes a few steps to the door when Matt says his name in a broken, scared voice, stumbling to his feet just to drop to his knees in front of Foggy, saying, “Please, no.”

“What are you doing, Matt?” Foggy asks.

“Don’t leave,” Matt says, hoarsely. “Dad— _Foggy_. Don’t leave.”

Foggy stares down at him, breathing shallowly.

“Okay,” he says. “Okay, I’m staying, Matt.”

Matt leans in to rest his forehead against Foggy’s thigh, murmuring, “You should—hit me.”

“. . . _what_?” Foggy asks.

“I should do better—I should _be_ better,” Matt says, pressing a kiss to Foggy's thigh through his sweatpants, eyes shiny and pretty and scared. Foggy tries to calm down before he sinks down to kneel in front of Matt, sliding a careful hand to rest on his elbow.

“Okay, we definitely need to talk about what we’re doing here, Matt,” Foggy says. “Before you ask me to—what, hit you just because I’m upset? I’m not gonna _do that_. I’m not gonna punish you unless it’s to get you off.”

Matt’s face is stormy when he ducks his head. Foggy watches him for a second before he smooths his other hand over Matt’s back and ask, “Is that what that Stick asshole did to you when you didn’t— _baby ninja_ like he wanted you to?”

Matt recoils, jerking away from Foggy, almost falling backwards.

“Why would you bring him up?” he asks.

“Because I thought it would be less shitty than bringing up your dad,” Foggy says, too sharply, already wishing he hadn’t said it.

“They don’t have _anything_ to do with us,” Matt says, soft and fierce, his face bright red when Foggy cups his jaw to raise it. He looks unsure and shaky and embarrassed and Foggy wants nothing more than to take it back, pretend he never said anything, kiss Matt and take him back to bed.

“Matt. _Sweetheart_ ,” he says, quietly. “I just. . .I just want you to know that it’s okay if this is a little bit about the fact that you’ve had a really freaking _hard_ life. I want to be one of the people who makes it better.”

Matt’s silent for awhile before he moves forward on his knees to get closer, and Foggy wraps his arms around him, pulling so he’s sitting on the floor and Matt’s tucked against him.

“I told you it was fucked up,” Matt says, eventually, voice faint, a little flat.

“Don’t care,” Foggy says, muffled in Matt’s hair. “Still like you.”

“Yeah?” Matt asks.

“Always, dude, you can listen to my heartbeat to fact check,” Foggy says. “I’m here for the long haul. You’re stuck with me.”

Matt ducks his head to press closer to Foggy’s chest, breathing in slowly and carefully.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't actually know where this is going from here but I'm obsessed with this dynamic so it will probably go somewhere


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You said you didn’t know what we’re doing,” he says, slowly, like he’s trying to ask a question.
> 
> “Yeah,” Foggy says, sliding an arm around Matt’s waist. “Because I don’t—do you want to put a pause on the daddy issues conversation and skip to the annoying rom com _what am I to you conversation_?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> idk romance

They stay on the floor for awhile, because Matt’s still shaking and clinging and Foggy doesn’t know what to do besides be there. Besides _not leave_ , which Matt murmurs something about again, barely audible.

“I’m here,” Foggy whispers, smoothing his hand over Matt’s hair again and again.

Eventually, Matt says in a rough voice, without pulling away, “We can stop doing this, if you want. Not—I _want_ this, but you don’t have to do it for me.”

“You think you’re the only one who’s getting off on this?” Foggy asks, then, when Matt doesn’t reply. “We can stop any time you want, Matt, but as long as we’re doing this right, then I’m in.”

“Right?” Matt asks.

“Like, in a way that leaves us happy and healthy and not literally crying on the floor,” Foggy says, smiling when Matt laughs. He pulls Matt up so they’re face to face and he can press a kiss to his mouth, thumbing away tears from under his eyes, and Matt reaches up a hand to thread it in Foggy’s hair like he’s anchoring himself.

“You’ve always known how to take care of me better than I do,” he says.

“That’s not hard,” Foggy replies, warmly, running fingers over his cheek. “You have the self-preservation skills of an insect. Me not actively trying to kill you is still better than you taking care of yourself.”

Matt nods.

“Probably,” he agrees, barest hint of a smile.

Foggy sighs.

“Come on, let’s go sit on a surface that’s not hard and cold,” he says, getting to his feet and holding out a hand for Matt to help him up. Matt takes it and laces their fingers together, lets Foggy lead him back to the couch. When they sit down, Matt immediately shifts close, gets small and tucks his legs underneath him and rests his head on Foggy’s shoulder.

“You said you didn’t know what we’re doing,” he says, slowly, like he’s trying to ask a question.

“Yeah,” Foggy says, sliding an arm around Matt’s waist. “Because I don’t—do you want to put a pause on the daddy issues conversation and skip to the annoying rom com _what am I to you_ conversation?”

“Okay,” Matt agrees. “You start.”

“Do you want me, Matt?” he asks, hates the way his voice breaks a little when he adds, “I mean— _just_ me?”

Matt goes still next to him, and Foggy feels sick for a solid five seconds before Matt says, “That’s what you don’t know?”

“Among other things,” Foggy says.

“Foggy,” Matt says, turning to kiss Foggy’s shoulder, breathing in deeply. “Of _course_. Just you.”

Foggy’s quiet for a moment before he turns to pull Matt into his lap, kissing him deeply, so Matt gasps and laughs against his mouth.

“You’ve kind of been it for me for awhile, Matt,” Foggy says, and Matt nods. “I just—I need you to know that.”

“I know,” Matt says, nudging their foreheads together. “Thanks for telling me.”

Foggy kisses him again, slow and careful, tugging gently at Matt’s hair.

“See what happens when we use our words,” Foggy says, sweetly, and Matt smiles.

“I’ll work on it,” he promises.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Are you going to Mass later?” Foggy asks.
> 
> “Yeah, at 9:00,” Matt says.
> 
> “Would it be weird for you if we messed around beforehand?” Foggy asks, sitting up, hands sprawled across Matt’s chest.
> 
> “I think I’ll be okay,” Matt says, wryly.
> 
> “Even if I tie you up,” Foggy says, voice soft and speculative, “and make you beg?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm glad that I write really quickly otherwise I'd just be writing porn all the time?? Also, the more I write, the more I realize this fic is just me self-indulgently writing all of my own kinks, but, hey, what's the internet even for if not that. 
> 
> Oh, and please note that there is some a hint of rimming and some actual barebacking in this chapter, if you're not cool with either of those things. <3

Matt leaves that afternoon, but Foggy wakes up the next morning with Matt’s arms wrapped around him, huddled against Matt’s chest. He shifts enough to see a new bruise high on Matt’s cheek, leaning in to press his lips to it.

“Mmm,” Matt murmurs, still half-sleep, pulling Foggy closer.

“Who gave you this?” Foggy asks, squirming to free his hand and poke at the bruise gingerly. Matt hisses softly, pushing his hips towards Foggy.

“An asshole with a good right hook,” he says, voice tired and a little hesitant—Foggy realizes, distantly, that he normally doesn’t ask about Daredevil stuff, but then Matt’s kissing his cheek, angling his head down to press his mouth to Foggy’s neck, over his pulse.

“Better than yours?” Foggy asks, and Matt huffs.

“ _No_ ,” he says, kissing Foggy on the mouth. Foggy kisses him back, pushing gently so Matt falls back and he can climb on top of him, sparing a glance at his alarm clock. It’s early, barely light out.  

“Are you going to Mass later?” Foggy asks.

“Yeah, at 9:00,” Matt says.

“Would it be weird for you if we messed around beforehand?” Foggy asks, sitting up, hands sprawled across Matt’s chest.

“I think I’ll be okay,” Matt says, wryly.

“Even if I tie you up,” Foggy says, voice soft and speculative, “and make you beg?”

“As long as I can still sit in the pew,” Matt replies, smirking, and _fuck_ —Foggy’s so in love with him, every bruised and messy piece of him. He bends down to kiss Matt again just to show him, and Matt sighs, content, murmurs, “Please,” when they part.

“You begging already, honey?” Foggy asks, pleased.

“Yeah, Daddy,” Matt drawls, still a little sleep heavy, dropping his head back down on the sheets with his eyes shut. Foggy wondered if they would just slip back into it, quick as that, and it seems like they are if Matt’s this loose and relaxed underneath him.

“Get on your knees,” he says, running his hands down Matt’s arms before he pushes off of him and heads towards the bathroom, saying, “Hold onto the headboard while you wait for me, Matt,” and glancing over his shoulder to see Matt’s fingers curled through the slats in it.

Foggy brushes his teeth thoroughly, sneaks a glance back out the door to find Matt in the same position—he says, quietly, “Good boy,” and Matt smiles.

Then Foggy takes a shower.

He doesn’t take his time, because he knows that Matt hearing the water running is enough to get him needy and desperate and frustrated, but he talks quietly through it because he knows that Matt’s listening—telling Matt how good he looks all spread open for him, how hard he’s going to fuck him, how sweet and pretty and patient he is.

He’s towel-drying his hair when he walks back into the bedroom, and Matt turns his head to frown at him, lips bitten red from his own teeth.

“Hey, be good,” Foggy says, “or I’ll have to take back some of the nice things I just said about you.”

Matt’s fingers flex on the headboard, probably already aching a little. Foggy hums softly as he goes to his dresser to skim his fingers over his ties, pulling one out at random and taking it over to tie Matt’s wrists together. Matt risks a tame bite to Foggy’s arm, grazing his teeth over the first piece of exposed skin he can reach, and Foggy smiles.

“I’ll be honest, I’m going to wait awhile to spank you after yesterday,” he says, as carefully as he can. “I’ll just punish you by making you wait longer if you want to act up.”

Matt huffs again, kissing the same spot instead before Foggy ties his bound wrists to the headboard so Matt’s hanging by them when he slumps down.

“You’ll have to keep holding onto it for me if you don’t want your wrists to hurt,” Foggy says. “I’d hate for you to be in pain while you’re trying to pray.”

“It actually kind of helps,” Matt says, wryly.

“Yeah? Is that why you like being on your knees so much?” Foggy asks, and Matt laughs before Foggy grabs the lube they’ve left shamelessly sitting on the bedside table and crawls onto the bed behind him. He almost starts to work Matt open immediately before he murmurs, “Huh,” and leans down to lick a stripe over Matt’s hole.

Matt swears softly, pushing back as Foggy licks over it again, pressing hard with the flat of his tongue when Matt says, “ _Fuck_ , oh, fuck, Daddy.”  

“I think you’re going to be late for church if I start eating you out,” Foggy says, kissing the small of Matt’s back and eliciting a groan of protest from Matt, “but let’s revisit it later.”

He fucks Matt with his fingers quickly, because Matt’s already been so patient for him, and he’s reaching for a condom from the drawer when Matt says, “Could you—could you do it without it?”

“. . .are you sure, Matt?” Foggy asks.

“I’m sure,” Matt says, “—if _you’re_ sure.”

Foggy shuts the drawer slowly, crowding close to Matt so his dick is pressed up against his ass and he can turn Matt’s head enough to kiss him, once, close-mouthed and sweet.

“You’ve been so good for me, I’m not even going to make you beg for it, sweetheart,” he says, pulling away. His voice goes shaky as he covers his fingers with lube and strokes himself a few times before he’s pressing into Matt slowly, slowly, trying to keep himself from coming too quickly. Matt moans, goes limp and pliant until Foggy’s deep inside of him, when he pulls himself up and pushes back so Foggy’s even deeper.

“Oh, god, fuck me,” Matt says, hushed.

“How do you want it?” Foggy asks, grinding his hips forward.

“ _Hard_ ,” Matt says. “Please.”

“Thought you wanted to be able to sit for the service?” Foggy asks, amused.

“I’ll stick to kneeling,” Matt shoots back, then, when Foggy pulls almost entirely out before snapping his hips forward, “Oh, god, just like that.”

Foggy fucks him hard and deep with every stroke, listens to the things that makes Matt’s breath catch and his words shift to frantic and needy and tries to repeat them, waiting until he’s close before he reaches around to squeeze Matt’s dick at the base so Matt shouts and his knuckles go white where they’re holding on even tighter.

“Do you want me to come inside you, Matt?” Foggy asks, stroking Matt in time with every thrusts, wondering if they can both twist enough that he can kiss the soft _uh uh_ _uh_ noises that Matt probably doesn’t even realize that he’s making out of his mouth.

“Yes, Daddy,” Matt says, hoarsely. “Please.”

“Good boy,” Foggy murmurs, fucking him harder and matching the pace with his hand on Matt’s dick until Matt’s gasping out nothing but vowels and coming. Foggy follows quickly, both of his hands holding onto Matt’s hips when he comes inside of him with a low groan.

Matt’s hanging by his wrists, apparently too out of it to hold himself up anymore, so Foggy carefully unties him and lays him out on his stomach, dropping down to curl up next to him and smooth a hand over his back, up and down.

“Jesus,” Matt says, jolting after a long silence. “What time is it?”

“After 8:00,” Foggy says, glancing back at the clock.

“I have to take a shower,” Matt says, pitifully.

“You definitely have to take a shower,” Foggy says, “because of the fact that my come is _inside_ you right now, at this very moment.”

“You sound very proud,” Matt says, turning to kiss Foggy before he gets up carefully.

“I am,” Foggy says, rolling over to watch him walk away. “I’m proud of us both.”

He stays in bed while Matt showers and puts on a suit, then leans down to kiss Foggy’s hair, saying, “Stay there. I’ll be back soon.”

“Have fun with God,” Foggy replies. “Maybe he wasn’t paying attention earlier.”

“Here’s hoping,” Matt says.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What were you dreaming about?”
> 
> Matt doesn’t answer, butting his head up against Foggy’s chin before he settles again. Foggy’s ready to let it go because he’s tired and this might be the only time that Matt actually gets a full night’s sleep this week, but then Matt says, eventually, “Stick.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mini-update! trying to do tiny bits of substance between large bits of porn.

Foggy’s only half asleep when Matt starts to get restless in his sleep, grunting and shifting in Foggy’s arms. He stayed in tonight for the first time in a couple of weeks, spent most of it with his head resting on Foggy’s lap until, a little after ten, he turned enough to mouth over the half-hard line of Foggy’s dick through his sweatpants.

Now, though, it’s a little after one in the morning and Matt’s face is screwed up when he twists it away from Foggy, makes a pained noise and still doesn’t wake up until Foggy wraps his hands around Matt’s arms to keep him still and says, “Matt, wake up, come on.”

Foggy barely catches Matt mumbling, “No, I _can_ ,” before he wakes suddenly and gasps, knocking Foggy away from him with an elbow as he starts to roll away—and then realizes where he is, eyes going wide.

“Oh, god, did I hurt you?” he asks, going rigid and still, close to the edge of the bed.

“No, I’m fine,” Foggy says, calmly. “Come back.”

He reaches out to carefully touch Matt’s hand, letting Matt lace their fingers together before he tugs him back in. Matt settles back against him fluidly, tucking his face into Foggy’s neck, breathing wetly.

“Sorry,” he murmurs.

“You don’t need to be,” Foggy says, tracing his fingertips over Matt’s spine. “What were you dreaming about?”

Matt doesn’t answer, butting his head up against Foggy’s chin before he settles again. Foggy’s ready to let it go because he’s tired and this might be the only time that Matt actually gets a full night’s sleep this week, but then Matt says, eventually, “Stick.”

“Nightmare?” Foggy asks.

He remembers Matt having them in college, little contained things, tossing and turning and soft shouts that he’d instantly try to bite back when he woke up. He’d never tell Foggy what the dreams were about, said he couldn’t remember.

“Sometimes, they’re just dreams,” Matt says. “This one was—definitely a nightmare.”

“Want to tell me what happened?” Foggy asks. “Or do you want me to shut up?”

Matt presses dry lips to Foggy’s skin.

“Never want you to shut up,” he says. “Don’t listen to me if I say so.”

“You’re treading on dangerous ground there,” Foggy says, and Matt’s laugh is quiet and slowly slips into a yawn at the end.

Foggy’s almost asleep, matching his breath to Matt’s body moving lightly against his, when Matt says, “He left.”

“I know,” Foggy murmurs.

“In the nightmare,” Matt clarifies, taking a sharp breath. “In most of them. He’s always leaving.”

“Oh,” Foggy says, carding his fingers through Matt’s hair, feeling sick thinking about walking out on Matt after he confessed everything.

“Out of everything that happened,” Matt says, laughing, “ _that’s_ what fucked me up. I should’ve been happy about it.”

“. . .probably,” Foggy says. “But you were a kid. You needed someone, Matt—not your fault it was a shitty someone.”

Matt pulls away from him for long enough to kiss Foggy on the corner of his mouth before he’s burrowing back into Foggy’s chest, curled up so he looks small underneath the sheets.

“Can we stop talking about this?” he asks. 

“‘course,” Foggy says. “Whatever you want, sweetheart.”

He stays up until he’s sure that Matt’s out again, snoring lightly into his t-shirt, then he falls asleep silently counting out the rise and fall of Matt’s breathing.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> FILTH.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY, ROMANTIC FILTH.

Matt lingers in his office until Karen leaves, almost too obviously. Foggy watches him fuss with stuff on his desk, shift papers around until he hears her feet hit the landing downstairs, probably. Then, because he clearly knows that Foggy’s watching him from the other side of the glass, Matt slowly starts to take off his tie.

“Well, okay,” Foggy says, backing up to lock the door, not taking his eyes off of Matt as he undresses and drops to his knees. Foggy’s about to go to him when he realizes that Matt’s _crawling_ _to him_ and swears softly under his breath at the sight, the slow careful way he moves on his hands and knees, his face hesitant when he stops to kneel at Foggy’s feet.

“Karen’s not in the building anymore,” he says.

“I can’t believe that was the only thing keeping me from doing this in our place of employment,” Foggy says. “This a thing for you?”

Matt shrugs, smiles a little.

“ _Ours_ ,” he says, like that’s even an answer. He’s been going a little more non-verbal lately, when they’ve been fucking, biting back less, maybe like he’s trying to be sweeter. Foggy’s not sure he likes it. It’s easier to be rough with him when Matt’s being a dick, but it’s also just better when Matt’s being _Matt_.

He drops his hand to rest on Matt’s head.

“Anybody else still here?”

Matt’s silent for a few moments before he says, “The accountant downstairs. That’s it.”

“You think you can be quiet so we don’t get a bad reputation?” Foggy asks.

“I don’t know, you might have to figure out how to shut me up,” Matt says, tilting his head, aiming a challenging smirk towards Foggy—and yeah, okay, there’s his boy. He strokes fingers down his cheek before pulling back and slapping Matt sharply. Matt’s head turns with the force of it, and he lets out a loud moan.

“Yeah, guess I will,” Foggy says.

“Will you—again?” Matt asks, earnestly, raising his chin up.

Foggy hasn’t hit him since the night that Matt asked him to when he was angry, but he’s not angry now, and Matt knows that he’s not being punished.

“You really want it, don’t you, sweetheart?” he asks, running his fingers through Matt’s hair, smiling when Matt beams up at him. He always takes the pet names as permission to push it further, leaning up to press a kiss to Foggy’s erection through his slacks before he sits back on his feet.

“Yeah, Daddy,” he whispers, and Foggy’s runs his thumb over Matt’s cheekbone before he slaps him twice, hard and in quick succession.

“Keep your hands behind your back,” he says, and Matt obeys instantly, sitting up straighter for him. Foggy loosens his belt but leaves it on, unbuttoning his pants and unzipping enough to pull his dick out and rest it on Matt’s lips. “You know, if someone had told me a year ago that I’d be fucking your face so our downstairs neighbor wouldn’t hear you call me _Daddy_ , I’d have been—well, really confused.”

Matt kind of shrugs, smiles but keeps his mouth shut.

“And happy,” he adds, because it’s probably worth noting. “Open your mouth, Matt.”

He presses into Matt’s mouth slowly with his fingers lightly holding his face, and Matt takes it all, jaw slack and breathing heavily through his nose, blinking up at Foggy. He’s nudging up against the back of Matt’s throat when he says, softly, “Say it, Matt.”

Matt mumbles, “Daddy,” around Foggy’s dick, spit slipping from his lips where they’re stretched around him. Foggy pushes just a little further to feel Matt choke and try to swallow around him before he pulls back to let Matt breathe, leaving the head sitting on Matt’s tongue as he gasps softly. When he’s ready for more, he sits up to sink down on Foggy’s dick, moaning soft and muffled when Foggy’s fingers slip into his hair.

He fucks Matt’s face with slow, deep thrusts, pulling at his hair to guide his head where he wants it so he can push in as far as Matt can take it.

“God, Matt, honey,” he says, not expecting his voice to sound as broken as it is. “You look so good like this, on your knees. Fuck, I love you.”

That’s—not necessarily what he meant to say but it’s true, Foggy _loves_ him. He goes still in Matt’s mouth, unsure of what to do, and Matt responds by making a soft earnest noise and sitting up to bob his head on Foggy’s dick quickly, licking around him as enthusiastically as he can.

He pulls off because he can probably _hear_ when Foggy gets close, his heartbeat or his blood or something, and says, “Love you, _love_ you,” voice soft and fucked up and hoarse as he tips his face—slick and shiny with spit and tears and pre-come—up towards Foggy expectantly.

Foggy nods, says, “Good boy, Matt, you’re such a good boy, I love you so much,” before he jerks himself off and comes over Matt’s mouth, his cheek. He falls to his knees instantly to pull Matt into a kiss, ignoring the taste of his own come to lick into Matt’s mouth. Matt's chest presses up against Foggy’s shirt—fuck, Matt’s wearing nothing and Foggy still has his _tie on—_ and Matt clings to him as Foggy gets a hand around his dick and jerks him off roughly.

After Matt comes on his hand and on the floor underneath them, he sinks heavily into Foggy, pressing his face into Foggy’s shoulder.

“You love me,” he says.

It’s not a question, but it sounds like one, so Foggy replies, “Yeah, Matt. Hell of a time to tell you, right?”

Matt laughs, a raspy quiet noise.

“It’s fitting,” he says, leaning back up to whisper, “Love you,” between kisses.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An epilogue!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like the last chapter was a nice place to end this story, so I'm posting this little epilogue to round out the word count and saying good-bye to this universe for a bit. Not forever, probably. Someday I inevitably will feel the siren call of daddy kink porn again and write a sequel or something.
> 
> Thank you all so much for the sweet comments and for reading this garbage. It's been real <333

They remain pretty remarkably stealth about the whole thing, especially considering how much they fuck in their office, until Foggy calls Matt _sweetheart_ in front of Karen. It’s dumb—a slip-up when Matt passes off a cup of coffee to him—instinct because Matt smiles at him and his hair’s all mussed and cute and Foggy loves him.

“Thanks, sweetheart,” he says, like an idiot, and then his stomach drops. Matt makes a noise that Foggy can’t quite register. Karen’s mouth hangs open.

“ _Sweet_ heart?” she asks. “Wait, are you two—”

They both say, “No,” then glance towards each other with wide eyes. They’ve _really_ got to work on the lying thing.

“You _are_ ,” she says. “How long?”

“No?” Foggy says, again, inanely.

“I can’t believe you were hiding it from me,” Karen says, shaking her head, gesturing between the two of them. “Actually, after the whole _Matt got hit by a car_ story, I’m surprised you _could_ hide it from me.”

“We just weren’t sure what we were for awhile,” Matt says, carefully. He steps closer to Foggy, resting a hand on the small of his back, smiling. “We wanted to figure it out together before we told anyone.”

Foggy glances over at him then sighs and smiles, too.

“You would have been the first to know,” he tells Karen. “Except for probably my entire apartment building.”

Matt makes a face at him, and Karen’s echoes it before she starts laughing.

“Oh god,” she says. “That’s like imagining my parents having sex.”

“Yeah, if your parents are super hot and insatiable,” Foggy says, and Karen hits him gently with a file folder and congratulates them and goes back to her desk. Matt waits until she’s gone before he leans in to kiss Foggy once.

“She was lying about it being like imagining her parents,” he says, in Foggy’s ear, and Foggy rolls his eyes.

“ _Invasive_ ,” he whispers back.

Matt shrugs and settles into the chair in front of Foggy’s desk, then Foggy laughs, suddenly.

“Man, imagine if you’d let my pet name slip,” he says, not noticing that Karen was walking by the door. She gasps and rounds on them.

“Okay, you _have_ to tell me,” she says. “I have to know. I’m part of this now.”

“It’s private,” Matt says, seriously.

“It can still be private!” she says. “I won’t tell a soul. I bet it’s really cute.”

“Can we include _no discussion of partners’ sex lives_ to the Nelson and Murdock office rules?” Foggy muses, speculatively.

“I think we’d break that rule a lot,” Matt murmurs.

“Oh, come _on_ ,” Karen says. “It’s not like you call him _daddy_ or something.”

Foggy can’t help the look that crosses his face—he’s got a _very_ expressive face—but Matt’s is _way worse._ His mouth falls open in shock and then he immediately looks shifty, and Karen’s eyes go wide.

“Oh my _god_.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> found the beginning of this bit that never made it into this and couldn't resist building it up a little and now I am abandoning it to you BECAUSE I DON'T HAVE TIME TO HAVE EMOTIONS ABOUT THIS FIC AGAIN AND I NEED YOU TO DO IT FOR ME

“Bed rest,” Claire says, pointing at Foggy. “I expect you to reinforce that because your boy thinks bed rest means a cat nap before he back flips out the nearest available window.”

“I can hear you,” Matt calls, from the next room. He actually agreed to take pain killers, which is probably telling about how rough the gash in his side is, and is distinctly loopy.

“Am I wrong?” Claire asks.

Matt is pointedly silent and Foggy shakes his head and grins.

“I can handle bed rest,” he says. “Thanks, Claire.”

“My pleasure,” she says, dryly, slinging her bag over her shoulder as she heads for the door. “Be good.”

“I don’t normally rest in bed,” Matt says, smirking at Foggy when he steps into the bedroom, lazily reaching up a hand. Foggy laughs and climbs up to sit cross-legged next to where Matt’s sprawled out on his back, lacing their fingers together.

“I know, you never let me rest, either,” Foggy says. “How’s the pain, hero?”

“Bad,” he says, then grins, reaching up to run fingers through Foggy’s hair. “Kiss it better.”

“You’re so high right now,” Foggy says, fondly, as he leans down to press a kiss to Matt’s nose—then his mouth, softly.

“Daddy,” Matt sighs, spreading his legs.

“I can’t fuck you when you have a hole in your side, sweetheart,” Foggy says, poking him in his wound-free side before running his hand up and down it.

“I’m willing to let you try,” Matt says, gravely.

“Nope, we’re gonna platonically spoon tonight,” Foggy says, laying down next to Matt, curling around him, careful of his side. Matt sits up just enough to pout so Foggy can see it, hair standing on end, and Foggy laughs and pushes him back down gently. “And don’t be a brat about it.”

“I’m not,” Matt says.

“You are, and I can’t spank you for it because you’ll pull your stitches and _bleed_ _to death_ ,” Foggy says.

Matt sighs—not over-dramatic, like he’s trying to get a rise out of Foggy, but just— _really_ exhausted.

“I had a bad night,” he says, softly.

“I know,” Foggy says, smoothing Matt’s hair down.

“I just need—” Matt starts, then screws his face up, cutting himself off.

“What?” Foggy asks, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. He’s gone from terrified that Matt’s going to die on him to his normal state of steady worrying; he’s happier to be dealing with Matt’s generally fucked up emotional state than dealing with Matt bleeding to death on his couch.

Matt shifts enough that he can press his face into Foggy’s chest, hissing softly just from moving.

“ _Daddy_ ,” he says, again, barely audible—sounding small and embarrassed.

Foggy’s breath catches in his chest before he smooths a hand over the back of Matt’s head, cradling it against him.

“I know, baby,” he says. “I’m here.”

Matt lets out a shaky breath before he says, “Sorry, I’m sorry, I—I don’t like painkillers.”

“Don’t apologize,” Foggy says, trying to sort out his thoughts while he’s talking. “This can be—anything you need it be, Matt. It doesn’t have to just be when we have sex.”

Matt pushes back against his hand before he settles in again, going quiet for a long time. Foggy lets him, runs fingers through his hair and up and down his back, hums softly so Matt can feel the vibrations everywhere they touch.

“You were scared when I came in,” Matt says, eventually.

“Yeah, I was,” Foggy says. “Normally I’m just scared when you leave.”

“I was scared, too,” Matt says, hushed, like he’s divulging some giant secret. Like everybody’s not scared of dying and it’s personally embarrassing that he could be. It probably shouldn’t make Foggy feel so fond, but it’s very Matt.

“Still scared?” he asks, tapping his fingers lightly on the back of Matt’s head.

“No,” Matt says. “Because—”

Matt trails off, one of his hands wandering until it can curl in Foggy’s t-shirt, holding on tightly.

“Finish what you were saying, sweetheart,” Foggy says.

Matt fingers clench and unclench around the fabric before he says, “Because I got back to you. Because—because you’re here.”

The _daddy_ is spoken softly afterwards, a little burst of air against Foggy’s neck.

“Good,” Foggy says, thickly, pulling Matt as close as he can without hurting him. “Good, Matty, that’s good.”

Matt tilts his head up, shoves up to kiss Foggy once, just a firm press of their lips together before he’s hiding his flushed red face again. They’ll have to talk about this in the morning when the drugs have worn off and they’re both less tired, and it’s going to be like pulling teeth to get Matt to say anything, probably—but god.

Matt feels safe with him. Matt probably never feels safe, but he feels safe right now, tucked up against Foggy in the bed they’ve been sharing for months.

“You should try to sleep,” he says, quietly. “I’ll still be here in the morning.”


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> have a little feelings update

****

“Come sit with me when you’re done,” Foggy says, walking past where Matt’s doing a complicated yoga pose on the floor and brushing fingers over his hair. Matt hums a soft agreement, eyes shut and face mostly blank until he finishes; Foggy tries to read a book but just ends up watching the way that his body moves, fondly.

When Matt finishes, he stretches out slowly on the mat before he gets to his feet and walks over to sink down next to Foggy on the sofa.

“What’s up?” he asks, leaning into Foggy’s side and lifting his face up for a kiss, which Foggy gives him.

“I want to talk about your dad again,” Foggy says.

The soft smile on Matt’s face disappears, and his eyebrows knit together.

“Why?” he asks.

Foggy sighs and wraps an arm around Matt before he says, “Because I want to know where— _I_ fit into everything that you’ve gone through. As your—person.”

“Boyfriend?” Matt asks.

“ _Daddy_ ,” Foggy says.

“I already told you that this is about _us_ , not—anyone else,” Matt says, kind of petulantly, not mean but nervous and sharp. “Why can’t you just leave it?”  

“Because I said so,” Foggy says. He means it as a joke, but Matt rolls his eyes, shifts lower. He doesn’t move away from Foggy, and he stays; he’s silent but Foggy just lets him be, because Matt would be out a window by now if he really didn’t want to talk.

“He died,” Matt says, eventually. “I told you the story. He died and it was my fault.”

Foggy spent a terrible night not too long ago, after Matt actually told him everything about his dad and how he died, trying to tell Matt that it wasn’t his fault. Matt’s not interested in hearing it. Foggy’s pretty sure that Matt’s also not interested in his opinion on the choices his dad made, but Foggy feels something real about somebody choosing to leave his son—choosing to leave _Matt_.

“It wasn’t,” Foggy says, saying, “Shh, I know, let me talk,” when Matt opens his mouth to speak. “You don’t have to believe me, but you were a kid and it wasn’t your fault. Period.”

“You know you’re not actually my parent, right?” Matt asks.

His voice is still weird, but he almost sounds amused.

“Oh, trust me, I know,” Foggy says. “So, your dad died and then you had—”

“Nobody,” Matt says, then, when Foggy lets the silence following it drag out. “He wasn’t—my father. Stick. He wasn’t.”

“You have the benefit of fresh memories of him being an asshole now,” Foggy says. “How did you feel back then?”

Matt’s chewing on his bottom lip a little too roughly, and Foggy lifts a hand to brush fingers over his mouth so he stops, thumbing gently over broken skin. Something like a smile crosses Matt’s face and he opens his mouth to suck Foggy’s fingers into it, which Foggy lets happen for a half-second before he pulls them away, wipes them off on the leg of Matt’s sweats.

“C’mon,” Matt says, softly, leaning in to kiss him instead, and Foggy pulls away.

“Stop trying to seduce me,” he says, a little too fondly. “It won’t work.”

Matt sighs and sits back, stretching long legs out in front of him. They sit silently for a long time, but Matt lets Foggy wrap an arm around him and hold him close, smoothing his hand up and down Matt’s bare arm until Matt finally speaks.

“He was the only one that I had, the only one that knew me at all,” he says, low and hesitant, a little rough, “and I couldn’t even—”

Matt turns his head to rest it against Foggy’s shoulder, hiding the face that he’s making, sniffing. He might be crying, but Foggy just asks, “You couldn’t what?”

“I couldn’t even make him stay,” Matt says, barely audible.

“Why did you have to make him stay?” Foggy asks.

Someday, he’s going to get Matt to admit that sometimes shitty things and people just happen to him and that everything isn’t his fault, isn’t his problem to fix. He’s pretty sure that’s an issue that’s buried deeper than the others, though, since it’s probably why he dresses up like the devil and fights people at night.

“I—I didn’t have to,” Matt says, “but I could have. I could have been what he wanted.”

Miserable and brainwashed, Foggy thinks, but he doesn’t say it.

“You don’t have to give yourself up just to keep people in your life,” he says.

“Yeah?” Matt asks, going rigidly still against Foggy, voice tight. “ _You_ left when you found out who I was.”

Foggy wasn’t really expecting that, breath catching before he can get any words out. Matt’s—a good fucking lawyer.

“I left because you lied,” he says, quietly, “and I’m not leaving again, Matt.”

Matt shifts away, suddenly, standing up and pacing over to stand near one of his windows. The sunlight hits him beautifully through the glass; if this weren’t basically a fight, Foggy would tell him just how beautiful he looks.

“I’ll do something,” Matt says. “I’ll—take it a step too far, I’ll—I’ll make you leave, too, just like them, just like—”

Matt doesn’t have to finish his sentence for Foggy to know that he’s talking about Elektra.

Matt lets out a loud, shuddering breath, resting his forehead against the glass. He doesn’t move away when Foggy gets up to walk over to him and rest a hand on his shoulder at first, then wrap arms around his waist from behind.

“I need you too much,” Matt says, basically a whisper, leaning back against him.

“I need you, too,” Foggy says.

“No, it’s—” Matt turns around instead of replying, pushing into a kiss. It’s not a distraction, just—a moment, Matt’s fingers on his jaw, his teeth grazing Foggy’s lip before he pulls back to say, “You’d move on. I don’t think I can move on anymore.”

Foggy stares at him, feeling a little bit like his heart’s trapped in his throat.

“You’re an idiot,” he says, laughing. “I mean that lovingly, but—I don’t take what we’re doing here lightly, Matt. This is it for me. I’m not going anywhere.”

“You can’t promise that,” Matt says.

“Try me,” Foggy says, kissing him again, backing Matt up against the window. Matt kisses back before he turns his head, smiling like he can’t help himself.

“Don’t try to seduce me,” he says.

Foggy grins at him, kissing Matt one more time.

“You’re not gonna be able to get rid of me even if you _want_ to,” he says, wiping a stray tear from Matt’s face. “And you might, because I’m going to keep making you talk about your feelings until we’re old and gray.”

Matt makes a face at him, but he hugs Foggy back when Foggy wraps his arms around him.

“Some of this,” he says, close to Foggy’s ear, “. . .me _needing_ this might have something to do with them.”

“Yeah?” Foggy asks, softly.

“Yeah. Maybe,” Matt says, which is—probably the best Foggy will get out of him, at least right now. Maybe’s better than nothing.

“That’s okay,” he says, kissing the side of Matt’s head. “You know that, right?”

Matt doesn’t reply, so Foggy holds him tighter, until Matt finally says, quietly, “Yeah,” then, louder, kind of fierce, “But me loving you has nothing to do with it. I’d love you even if you didn’t want any of this.”

“I know you would,” Foggy says, and he really believes him. They did this whole relationship thing weird, but it’s a relationship, and Foggy, even with all the complicated shit, has never been happier than he is right now. Matt loves him, and he’s not lying anymore, and things are okay.

 “Good,” Matt says, relaxing in his arms, smiling hesitantly when Foggy steps back a little to look at him. “Can we go back to the seducing?”

“I don’t know,” Foggy says, lightly. “I think there are still emotions to cover.”

“Let’s put a pin in it,” Matt says, insistently, looping an arm through one of Foggy’s, pulling him towards his bedroom. “Come do something fun with me and I’ll talk about all of the emotions you want.”

Foggy doubts that, but Matt deserves to have a little fun.


End file.
